


Sleeping with Blind Ghosts

by darlingsparks



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:18:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1499828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingsparks/pseuds/darlingsparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something cold and heavy dropped in his stomach. It doesn't feel right to him and his voice rose, throwing “Steve?” above the rest of the noise. He repeated it, twice before a scream punctuated the name. Then another, and another until that was all that Bucky could hear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Bucky's cocksure slouch wasn't effected by the din and noise, people swarming from all corners and pushing him into the fray. He didn't shout with them like Steve might've- his bold and steady voice a rallying point. Instead he weaved in and out of the pockets of protesting bodies with their placards raised high, trying to find him.

Steve had mentioned the campus protests early that morning, halfway out the door. He was smoothing his shirt down from where it hitched in the twisted straps of his backpack, baring skinny ribs. Bucky laid back in their single bed and watched, taking up all the space he wanted in Steve's absence. Summer sheets tangled around his thighs and ankles, purposeful in an attempt to get Steve back in bed with him. He felt pretty certain he was much better than anything else Steve might have to do this early in the morning. Steve was on to him. 

“I might stop by. It's for a good cause.” Steve said, as Bucky laughed. It wasn't a cruel sound, born from affection and admiration.

“Make me a fancy sign in art class and I'll come yell along side you, yeah?”

Steve gave him such a withering look that Bucky clutched his hands over his heart. It was Steve's turn to laugh.

“Jerk. Meet me for lunch instead? The campus cafe? I know Natasha's rostered on today.”

“You got it, Punk.”

 

“C'mon, Steve, where are you hiding,” Bucky muttered. He checked his phone, thumbs stamping out _Hey, I thought you wanted lunch, pal._

 

He turned his head to speak to the girl coming up next to him. Her protests rang clear with the others, full of purpose. She turned her head towards him as the words formed on his lips, but her horrified and widening gaze told him to turn around. His eyes follow hers back around, head twisting to take in the scene. A barrier of riot shields and masked bodies forming a wall, holding their arms locked to trap them in.

 

Something cold and heavy dropped in his stomach. It doesn't feel right to him and his voice rose, throwing “Steve?” above the rest of the noise. He repeated it, twice before a scream punctuated the name. Then another, and another until that was all that Bucky could hear.

 

He gets kicked by fearful feet, and rammed by flying limbs, right into the human and fibreglass wall. All before he could even think lift his own body and start running too. Bucky fell to the ground, trying to curl into a protective shape so he's not dead in the panic. He found himself hauled up and backwards by a thick gloved hand wrapped in his jacket. His head snapped towards the owner, hundreds of questions hiding in the look on his face.

 

All he sees is himself reflected in the black high gloss sheen of visors before the thick misty red descends and he breaths it in deep.

 

They drag him, half carry him from the smoke. That much he remembered before he went blind, and the caterwaul of sirens before he went deaf.  
Then he remembered nothing at all.


	2. These Clouds we're seein'

Steve ambled across the quad, head down as he rummaged in his backpack for his notepad and pencil. Beth, a classmate, had agreed to talk to him more about the protests for the campus newspaper and he wanted to catch up with her before the protest started. She'd mentioned that the turnout was going to be even bigger than the Organisers had expected, even the media had invited themselves along. Steve thought he would take down a few pages of notes and join in for a while until they took to the streets. He hadn't had time to actually make a sign but he could add his voice in support in the least. Then he'd go sit in the grass on the other side of the quad to do a bit of people watching for a new art project and meet Bucky for lunch afterwards. It was his treat since he finally had some good news to share. 

Beth waved him over, bouncing on the balls of her feet, taking one hand off her sign to welcome him into the growing front-line, and past the handful of cops keeping things in check. He was almost there when some guy walking by in a group yanked Beth's sign from her grip. He held it up sneering at the words and mockingly repeating them right up in her face, his buddies goading him on. It was after she tried to take it back, that he shoved her to the ground. His friends were pushing up against other protesters around them, making a scene.

"Hey, back off her!" Steve, often to Bucky's despair, was the type to get involved. He might have been small but he didn't like bullies, especially the kind that went in on his friends. Steve grabbed the guy by the collar and hauled him off her, shoving him aside hard and hoping he'd get the hint. A fist was already connecting to his face when he realised wishful thinking and good will toward others like this jerk often got him knocked out. He swung his own, stumbling sidewards as his weak left hook left him off balance. It was Beth's punch square to the guy's nose that gave Steve a chance to get back to his feet. Long enough that, as soon as he was standing again, he earned a police baton to the gut twice, once taking the wind out of him and the other putting him back to his knees. The face full of gravel and the boot on his back was just the icing on the cake of it all. 

The scuffle ended as quick as it started, but they were the ones being led away, arms cuffed behind their back.

 

The phones rang out nonstop in the small police station, with no one around to answer them. All Steve could see of the station were empty desks and chairs pushed back in a chaotic tangle, like the occupants all left in a hurry. In the last ten minutes he had seen the other protesters arrested with them released, leaving him the last in his cell, whistling to himself. A sullen and red faced clerk had come to retrieve him not long after and led him to the front office, standing him beside Beth and cutting the plastic cuffs away. Steve rubbed at the joints of his wrists, the easily bruised skin, marked and rubbed red. The resulting ache in his joints was a minor distraction from the constant throb in the left side of his face and ribs at least. After the whole ordeal of the morning it was safe to say he was bruised all over and what he wanted was a hot bath.

The sullen clerk returned the collective contents of their pockets, emptying the envelopes onto the desktop. Beth stood silent next to him, her shiny brown skin was smudged with dried blood and her lower lip swelled, but her hand remained on Steve's arm for support. For her sake or for his, he couldn't say, but he appreciated it none the less.

His phone was the first thing he reached for. The start screen was too bright to his eyes after an hour in the low lit, airless holding cell. It was bad enough Steve already felt a thickness in his lungs, making his chest feel uncomfortable and heavy. He really didn't need to be sick again already, not after the Spring accident. Bucky was gonna go off at him for ending up in this situation, even worse if he did get sick again. Pissed, probably, but maybe proud too. The cuff to his ear would be worth the embrace that followed. He hated the thought of making his best friend worry any more than he had to already but sometimes he couldn't help himself. Maybe he should have caved to Bucky's sly advances this morning. Maybe.

 

The clerk disappeared after dumping the envelopes out in front of them and left them with little more than a grunt of recognition. No follow up song and dance or paperwork to sign either. They should be grateful he supposed, but he would save the snark for when he got home. Beth tightened her grip on his arm, a tiny appreciative smile tugging on her split lip as they refilled their pockets.

"Thanks for pulling him off me, Steve."

"You've got a mean right hook." He replied, a small laugh rising between them for the ridiculous situation, it hurt but damn it was worth it.

"Have you got a ride home, Beth? I can wait with you if you like." She looked a bit worse for wear and to be honest he was about to keel over. They were holding each other up at this point, but he could understand if she wanted to be alone.

"Yeah, actually. Thank's Steve."

He wasn't sure if they could leave yet, but the clerk hadn't stopped them as they made towards the door. They were ten steps from the building when Steve finally paid closer attention to his phone and the blinking notification light. Four messages, six missed calls, two voice mail. Beth, though beside him with their arms linked, was doing the same.

"This is a message for Steve Rogers, emergency contact for James Barnes. Mr Barnes was involved in an incident, please return this call as soon as you receive this message." Steve hit redial before the message could even finish.

"Emergency."

Steve had to fight hard to quell the panic rising in his voice, something thick and beating lodged in his throat that he had to try and speak around.

"Yes, this is Steve Rogers, I'm returning a call about Bu- James Barnes? What's wrong, what happened?"

 

Emergency was full to the brim when he arrived, every seat occupied and every inch of wall space had a hunched back pressed to it.

Beth and her dad had had to drop him at the corner a block over from the Hospital. The traffic was so bad, cars were spilling over their designated spots and the road was all but closed off. She had offered to stay with him then too, but it wasn't fair to her after the day they'd had already. She'd made him promise to call if he needed anything before he left the car, concern and growing fear in her eyes. The radio was on in the car, but there was no news of this, nothing that would suggest the scene at the hospital, combined with what he'd noticed at the Police Station. He didn't understand.

Steve nudged his way towards the front desk, catching hushed pockets of conversation. And under those hushed conversations and whispers of prayers crouched around clasped hands, a wailing grew.

"Steve Rogers for James Barnes. I'm his brother. I got a call. What's happened?"

"Sir, there was an incident at the university campus. That's all we can tell you. We can't let you in to see him just yet, if you will please take a seat."

A clenched fist wasn't going to help anyone right now, Steve had to shove it into his trouser pocket as he made polite with the registrar. His legs were about to turn to jelly, along with the rest of him, and his guts were all up in a knot, when an arm caught his elbow, saving him from an undignified fall.

"Rogers?" Steve turned his head, finding himself staring up at Natasha, her eyes wide. He never wanted to see terror on any of his friends faces like that ever again after today. "Steve? You're okay. James?"

As his face fell, the look on hers grew colder.

"Tasha? What are you doing here, what's happened?" Steve's tongue fumbled against the dry roof of his mouth. Natasha tugged him along to a corner and sat him down in a coveted chair. He recognised the man sitting in the chair next to him from the uni cafe, the owner and Natasha's boyfriend, Bruce. He had a scowl on his face, his shoulders squared off with contained fury. There was some blood on his shirt, a bandaged cut across his eyebrow and a bruise to his cheek. Natasha crouched on the ground and began to look over Steve's face as she talked, trying to fill him in on the hour he'd missed. She was talking a million miles as she rubbed the blood stains from under his nose.

"We got the call about Clint. One of our casuals is in there too, the Korean kid. Bruce and I were out getting supplies. We couldn't have been gone more than 30 minutes and this happens. Shit. I'm so glad you weren't there. There were still bodies everywhere, Steve. Dead bodies."

"Slow down a second." Steve started to say, stopping her hand on his face. "What do you mean dead bodies?"

Natasha leant in close to his ear, her voice dropping to a whisper, breaking for the incredible despair of it all.

"They used a gas on the protesters. The fucking riot police were there, corralling them in like livestock, Steve. They did it on purpose."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My grammar sucks. Sorry. :( Crit is highly welcomed.


End file.
